One of patriarchy's clever chiastic contrivances is to relegate a certain kind of labour (say, cooking or sewing) to the status of 'women's work' as long as it's in the home and unpaid, while simultaneously restricting women from participating in the upper echelons of the paid version of that work: sewing is women's work, but all the best tailors, cobblers and fashion designers are men (so the myth goes).

Erickson's piece is hardly revolutionary (or even original), but it does lay the situation bare and includes some delectable quotes from successful female chefs: "“The hours are fucking terrible, I am always sweaty, hot and tired,” says Nancy Hinton, chef de cuisine at L’Eau à la Bouche in Ste. Adèle."

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I erred yesterday: C. actually said that Leslie Feist rocked out like Chrissie Hynde, "channelling" her energy, vivid physicality, magnetic stage presence and throaty vocals--not just that she sounded like her. Mea culpa.